


Patra

by IndigoJuly



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Trans Male Character, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoJuly/pseuds/IndigoJuly
Summary: Minato’s binder has finally worn out. He’s having a hard time.





	Patra

**Author's Note:**

> This deals with dysphoria and anxiety/depression and may be triggering. Stay safe guys, it gets better.   
> I thought about this while remembering a fic that I think I read on here, with trans!Protag, supportive Aigis, and Mitsuru buying the Protag stuff. I cannot seem to locate it again, unfortunately, but if anyone knows what I’m talking about and can link it, I would appreciate it! This is also not beta-read, so sorry for any mistakes!

Minato thought of himself as a pretty resourceful guy. Case in point- his binder. He had repaired it when the stitching started coming undone, when an unblocked blade sliced a neat line into it, and when a stray agi spell singed the fabric and it needed to be patched. 

And so now, after nearly two years of service, the binder was more thread than elastic and he couldn't do anything about it. He had already spent his budget on weapons, armor, and items. There was no way around it- they had barely survived their last trip in Tartarus.

And so now, he pulled the binder over his head, looked down at himself and cried, hot tears flowing down his face, breath shaky, curling in on himself as anxiety coursed through his veins and made his limbs shake.

He trembled like that for too long, far too long for a leader who was supposed to be strong, was supposed to help shoulder everyone else's burdens. So he forced himself up and over to the closet. He picked a dark shirt and threw a jacket over it with only a glance at the mirror to check that nothing was horribly out of place. Because if he looked too long, he would start to pick out every little flaw with himself, how there was too much and too little and he wasn't enough since all he amounted to was a fraud. And there he goes, thinking again. He had to stop that.

He opened the door without thinking and walked out without thinking so that he couldn't stop himself, then was relaxed when no one was in the hall. There was only so much human interaction he could take right now. Down at the table, Mitsuru was the one at the table, reading something. Right, it was late. Everyone else was probably in their rooms.

“Arisato, how are you?” she smiled.

He only grunted in response. He didn't trust his voice right now, not when so much of the rest of himself felt wrong.

He grabbed the first thing in the fridge that looked edible and reheated it. He had barely eaten over the past couple days, since his dysphoria kept him from leaving his room and he had run low on snacks. The only reason why he was out now was that his stomach had finally protested enough.

Mitsuru was sitting at one end of the table, so he sat down a few seats away. Not enough to seem like he was avoiding her, but enough to not invite conversation. He ate quickly, barely tasting the food. He just wanted to go back to his room and be alone in his misery. Out of the corner of his eye, Mitsuru glanced up at him, pausing and breathing in as if to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. 

And so dinner went by without an incident and he retreated back to his room to sleep, knowing he would wake up as tired as he before, as helpless as before.

And so when he heard a knock on his door, he flinched so hard that his leg hit the wall, the noise as loud as his hammering heart. So much for pretending to be asleep. Maybe he could still wait it out.

“Arisato, I know you’re awake. Are you ok? You’ve seemed… unwell.” Mitsuru’s voice was soft, yet commanding. “Please.” Well, there was no way to get out of this. Now he felt guilty that he made Mitsuru worry, but also had to make sure he reassured her enough that she would stop.

Minato sat up and pulled his blanket over him shoulders. “Come in.”

The door swung open silently and Mitsuru stepped into the darkness.

Silently, she walked over, pulling his chair over to the bedside. She looked at him expectantly.

“I’ve just been feeling off. Might’ve caught something. I’m ok,” he tried. He didn’t think that she would come to his room and he didn’t have time to make up an excuse.

She tilted her head slightly, letting her concern show through the crinkle in her brow. “I think we both know that isn’t true. Something has been bothering you for much longer. You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to. I’ve noticed it myself.” She allowed her gaze to drop to his chest briefly and he instinctively hunched his shoulders even more. 

“It’s… too worn out. It doesn’t work anymore.” His voice came out in a whisper, afraid to admit what he had tried so hard to hide.

“Is that what the sewing kit is for?” She gestured to his desk. That was right, he hadn’t put it away yet. “It seems like you take very good care of your things. You should be proud. It’s a good skill.” 

Well this was… not what he had been expecting, whatever it was. He might even say he’s feeling cautiously optimistic. No screaming, no hands grabbing him, pushing him down, ripping-

And now he’s shaking again, head down, legs curled to his chest as Mitsuru sits with him in his room. As Mitsuru watches him break down and struggle to breathe.

“Arisato!” Her voice is still lowered, but urgent. “Was it something I said?”

He jerks, shaking his head. The last thing he wants is for Mitsuru to feel blamed. What a horrible leader he would be if that happened. Bitterly, he supposes he can only sink so much farther, though, now that Mitsuru probably thinks he’s abnormal and unfit to be leader, they would kick him out of SEES and he would be alone and-

“Breathe, Arisato. It’s ok.” Her voice cuts through his thoughts and he body seems to deflate even more as he comes back. “I’m sorry, I never meant to cause you additional stress. I didn’t want to pry, but I believe I could help you.” Her gaze is so gentle, he has to stop for a minute to process it. 

“...What do you mean?” He can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Well, you require a new binder, correct? I will gladly purchase some new ones for you, or anything else you require, for that matter. I know how much you spend on items for Tartarus.”

“I, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” This, this, he did not expect. Why would Mitsuru even bother with this?

“It’s no trouble,” she brushed it off with a smile. “You are our leader, but more importantly, our friend. No one here wants to see you suffer.” 

That’s right, the others. Wait, did they know too? He looked at her with his eyes wide, slightly panicked. But before he could say anything, she said, “If you’re wondering about the others, I don’t believe that they know. I only guessed since I know what to look for.” A knowing smile tugged at her lips. 

Knew what to look for? Did she, or was she…? Were he not so tired out from the interaction, Minato might have pressed more about her comment. But maybe it didn’t matter, since she continued on without pausing, “Besides, while I can’t speak for them, I would be surprised if they took it badly. And then they would have me to answer to.”

He smiled back. Whatever this was, it had turned out ok. Good, even. He didn’t think he was any more inspired to come out to the rest of the group, but he did feel better about if they somehow found out. 

And so now, after Mitsuru had excused herself and Minato had settled back into bed, he closed his eyes and breathed evenly, convinced that at least for now, things would be ok.


End file.
